down his chin and sucked it through pursed lips with an audible smack. The taste bucked his courage and made him hungry for more. When two did try a coordinated attack, he was ready. He felled one with a roundhouse kick. The other got behind him and wrapped his arms around his throat. Merlin didn’t panic. He knew the best way to get out of a chokehold. Reaching behind with both hands, he took his assailant by the head and tossed him over his shoulders. This time, he did snap the man’s neck and used the limp body as a club to bring the first man down again as he was getting to his feet. He was on top of him in a flash, tearing out his larynx.
More blood, more sweet relief. When he stood again, he roared with glee. The four remaining mercenaries looked at each other once more. Their expressions conveyed their uncertainty now, if not abject fear. It was the biggest of them, the one Merlin had thought might give him the most trouble, who cracked first.
“Fuck it. No hole is worth this horror show. I’d rather watch reruns of Survivor.”
With a hiss, Merlin jumped to get between the retreating men and Mateo, who had stayed right where Merlin had put him. No one dared to make a grab for the boy, which almost disappointed him. He’d not only won, but he’d also learned that he liked this—drinking the blood of his enemies as he tore them apart, as he…killed them.
He looked at the carnage, at the dead bodies and the pieces he’d separated from them before spitting them out. It wasn’t pretty, and the blood lingering on his tongue wasn’t quite as sweet. The room tilted somewhat. He flung out his hands to steady himself.
“Hey.” It was Mateo. He’d come out of his corner and was holding his arm. “Are you okay?”
Merlin blinked a few times, clearing his head and wondering why he wasn’t more elated. He’d done what he’d planned. Mateo was safe and he’d established that he was no one to fuck with. He’d also put a target on his back, so he’d have to be extra careful in the coming hours.
He shook off the hold. “I’m fine. Come on.” Now he gripped Mateo, although not as tightly as he’d done earlier. The guy wasn’t fighting him anymore.
“Where are we going? Back to your room?” There was doubt in Mateo’s voice, as if maybe he thought Merlin really was keeping him all to himself.
Even so, he bet the former street rat was calculating that keeping Merlin happy was better than being torn to pieces by a bunch of killers, which was all to the good, because Merlin was about to capitalize on that pragmatism in order to achieve critical access to the computer. He did, however, go to his room. Mateo humphed when they entered it, as if to say ‘knew it’.
Ignoring him, Merlin let him go. Then he stripped off his bloody clothing, surprised at the feeling of relief when they were gone. He took time to wash his face and hands to remove the remnants of the fight on his skin before slipping on his silky pants.
Mateo eyed him. “If we’re going to play sultan and harem boy, don’t you think I should wear those?”
Merlin shook his head and grabbed Mateo’s arm again. “Shut up and come on.”
He led Mateo down the ‘hall of cameras’, as he thought of it. Mateo didn’t miss that difference in décor. His gaze ping-ponged around as Merlin hustled him to the end. He could practically hear the other boy thinking about what all of this meant. There was no way to let him in on the plan without risking detection, so he hoped Mateo would be a quick study on subtle cues.
Merlin knocked in his usual way and when the door opened, he put on his ‘hi, daddy’ smile. “Hey, Jacko… Thought we’d mix it up a bit tonight.” At some point, the man had become talkative enough to give out his name. Not that it mattered, but Merlin liked to think it showed he was making good inroads in the trust department. The less this man saw him as a possible threat, the more lax he’d become.
He could tell by the man’s leer at a naked Mateo that he’d said the right words. “Isn’t he the boss’ toy?”
“For tonight, he’s mine—a gift from the Master for good service. I choose to share him with you.”